Neighborhood Watch

Tug on a woolen overcoat half a size too small
And step out of the apartment lobby
The nights are growing noticeably colder
Feel the faint nip on gloveless fingertips,
Under a vast ceiling of clear sky 
My thoughts reluctantly drift to
All the futile wishes made on burnt out stars
I spark a fresh cigarette and let the smoke mingle
With the steam from sewer grates and the fogging of breath

The bus is near deserted
Could-be-passengers are probably wrapped up warm with hot cocoa
In front of the living room fire with a paperback novel in their hands
Or easing into inebriation watching the game at the corner bar
Comforting things, womb-like in feeling
The grizzled driver yells 'last stop'
So I pick up my battered messenger bag
And with only shadowed motives to deliver
I exit

Her street lies still and deserted
The trees whisper with spidery breath
As an icy wind rattles their bare branches
Qualms are absent from the pit of my stomach
Even though they should be attending this meeting
She is not mine to cross that line with
But once I have an idea, it stays
Planted firmly in the overgrown garden of my mind

She sits and takes little sips of red wine
Nestled comfortably in a sofa chair
Green eyes flicker suggestively behind curled lashes 
Cross your legs, cross my heart
I won't tell, oh no I won't tell a soul